


A Million Worlds Apart

by WaywardSpark



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Also fuck online exams, Alternate Universe - College/University, Arguing, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Skype, The author is venting her frustration about missing uni, dialogue only, lockdown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardSpark/pseuds/WaywardSpark
Summary: Sherlock and John are self isolating at home with their families, miles away from each other.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58
Collections: Isolated Johnlock Collection





	A Million Worlds Apart

“Hi! Can you hear me? Does this work?”

“Yes, it works, John. Hello.”

“God, it’s good to see your face. Four days here and I already miss you.”

“Don’t be so emotional. We text every day.”

“It’s not the same, though. After two months of seeing you nearly every day and practically moving into your room, it’s a big change. It’s weird.”

“I know. It’s hateful. I’m already desperate to go back. Mother is being paranoid and sanitising every surface. Father keeps humming. Mycroft is… here. His presence is more than enough to irritate me.”

“Other than that, everyone’s alright, though? They’re all healthy?”

“Fortunately, my parents are. Unfortunately, so is Mycroft.”

“Sherlock! You can’t say stuff like that.”

“As long as Mycroft continues to hog the library for his stupid video conferences with the stupid prime minister, I’ll say what I want. What about you? How’s your family?”

“Fine. They’re all fine. Harry is basically on the phone to her girlfriend constantly. Mum is working herself to the bone on the nightshifts at the care home. Dad is… stressed. We don’t know when or if his next paycheck will come in.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I know usually someone would offer words of consolation or advice but -”

“I know, you’re not good at that stuff. It’s ok. No worries, keep calm and carry on, eh?”

“Yeah. Though it’s very difficult to carry on as normal while watching the world collapse around you. I can’t believe they’re not cancelling exams.”

“I know! How the fuck do they expect me to do an online exam in a house like mine?? Dad’s been doing DIY to take his mind off things, Harry is either crying or yelling at her phone, and when mum isn’t sleeping, she’s vacuuming.”

“I know. And chemistry exams would be impossible to do online, seeing as at least two of the questions involve drawing a diagram and then submitting it as a pdf online on a system that’s temperamental on the best of days, let alone when all 200 students taking that exam have to submit it within the same twenty-four hours. Not to mention the other subjects.”

“I know, I know. Look, let’s not think about that, ok? Let’s distract ourselves. Something nice to think about, other than exams and the pandemic and the potential collapse of western capitalism as we know it. You done anything nice lately?”

“Nope. Just stuck inside, staring at the ceiling, feeling every ounce of my will to live leave my shell of a body.”

“You know you are allowed on walks, right?”

“Dull.”

“You like walks.”

“I like walks with you, and getting to collect soil samples. Now I can’t even hold hands with you, and mum says it’s not ‘sanitary’ to bring dirt into the house nowadays.”

“It never was, really.”

“Ugh, you sound just like her.”

“Don’t say that. Anyway, I’ve been finding ways to distract myself. Been catching up on shows I’ve missed, working on my cooking skills, getting to eat decent food for once, that I haven’t had to pay for.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I’ve now made icing with icing sugar and water and eaten it with a spoon. Twice. I can now tick that off the bucket list.”

“Dear God. Four days on lockdown and you’re already resorting to eating like some feral gremlin?”

“Hey, we all have our own coping strategies. And it actually tastes really good.”

“Vile.”

“Trust me, Sherlock, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried it.”

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Ok, I have to go now. The house is suspiciously quiet, which means I have about an hour of undisturbed study time before some kind of hell breaks loose. I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

“Of course… John? Can we do this again soon? The talking face-to-face?”

“Yeah. ‘Course, babe. Talk to you soon. Bye!”

“Bye.”

~

“Hello, John.”

“Hey! How have you been?”

“No different since I texted you this morning. I’ve managed to study a bit, though I hardly have access to the abundance of resources I did back at uni. Mostly been doing absolutely nothing of value. You?”

“Studying, chatting with extended family on the phone, going out on jogs. I feel like I’m becoming unfit.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s true! I’ve been eating so many biscuits lately, and I don’t have rugby practice anymore. It’s a nightmare.”

“Well, you still look pretty fit to me.”

“Ha, stop that. I’m not in the mood.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Complaining.”

“I can be on board with that. What do you want to complain about today?”

“Ugh, I don’t know. A lot of things. I miss uni. I miss my friends. I miss you. I miss pubs. I miss going out.”

“Strangely enough, I’ve started to miss those things too.”

“But you hate pubs. And you hate going out.”

“Not all of it. I like being with you in pubs. And going out clubbing with you. I liked how relaxed you got after a couple of drinks, and how you’d laugh so much more, without worrying about coursework or money or your family.”

“Aww. My point still stands though. You don’t like pubs, you just like me.”

“Ok, fine. Still. I liked clubbing a bit. I liked dancing.”

“No, you liked it when I watched you dancing, because you knew it got me all riled up and we’d have to leave early.”

“... I suppose.”

“Is there anything about uni you miss that is not to do with me?”

“I like my professors. The ones who took me seriously, anyway. I hope I see them again next year, but the chances are slim. And miss having time to myself, without being constantly aware of my family’s presence.”

“Yeah. Same. God, once this is over, part of me just wants to book a hotel room, just so I can have somewhere to stay away from my family.”

“Agreed. Perhaps if we shared that hotel room…”

“That would be great, but we live four hours apart. Won’t exactly be easy meeting up, and when we do, it won’t just be locked inside some bland hotel room.”

“On the contrary, I can’t think of a better way to celebrate our reunion.”

“No! I’m taking you out on a date. Somewhere nice. Like Wetherspoons.”

“Aren’t we meant to be boycotting Wetherspoons once this is over?”

“Bugger. Their garlic bread was so good, though. Ugh, fine, not ‘Spoons. Another pub.”

“Oh, how romantic, a crowded pub full of drunks celebrating the end of quarantine all at the same time. This is why I suggested the hotel room.”

“Ha, and not because you’re touch starved and horny all the time after being in lockdown for nearly two weeks?”

“I hate you.”

~

“John?”

“Sherlock? You ok?”

“Of course I am.”

“Really? Because sending a text that says ‘SKYPE CALL NOW URGENT’ in block capitals kind of sends the wrong impression.”

“I’m fine. I just wanted to see your face. That’s all.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I know that voice. And that face.”

“What voice? What face?”

“The puppy-dog face. The fake-innocent voice. _‘Come back to bed, John. You can just recap on a recording of the lecture later. But it’s so cold outside and the bed is so warm…’”_

“Stop that, you know I don’t like it when you mimic my voice.”

“Am I wrong though?”

“...”

“Sherlock?”

“No, you’re not. Ugh, I used to think I was above all this. I used to be fine on my own, without a partner. Then you came along and you _ruined_ me completely. I can’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

“Go on, then. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“Everything. Everything we’ve done. Everything I want to do. Our first time, the last time, our next time when we reunite. My brain is bursting with these indiscernable images and fantasies and experiences. Do you see John? The impact you’ve had?”

“Yep, certainly do. I’d be able to see it clearer if you took off those trousers, though.”

“Only if you do the same. You know, every night for the last three nights I’ve dreamt of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Your mouth, your hands… everything about you.”

“God, Sherlock. Wait - let me just move my laptop -”

“Yesss, let me see -”

“Oh, god - Tell me. Tell me what you’ll do when you see me.”

“I can’t - I can’t think. I need - “

“Alright then. I’ll do the talking. Because, believe me, I’ve been thinking about this a lot myself…”

~

“Hey, you.”

“Oh, hello. Is this another skype session like the last one?”

“No. Somehow, I’ve managed to surpass the horny stage of quarantine and go straight into the Regency Heroine stage.”

“Oh god. What?”

“I tried to sit down and write the final paragraph of my essay and I ended up staring into space for a good five minutes thinking about cuddling you.”

“That’s a little bit pathetic, John.”

“Yeah, I know. Then Harry and I sat down to watch Sleepless in Seattle and I had to leave the room to stop myself from crying.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was embarrassing. I just really, really miss you.”

“So do I. I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive two more months or, heaven forbid, longer.”

“When we get back to uni, I swear I’m never going to leave cuddling early for lectures. I honestly just don’t care anymore.”

“And I won’t roll away to try and sleep from now on.”

“Wait, you do that?”

“You’re like a furnace and I do need some hours of sleep, believe it or not.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t look at me like that, I said I’d stop. We just might need to start sleeping with some icepacks as well.”

“Don’t bring icepacks into our bed.”

“Joking. Ish.”

“Right. Anyway, I’ll talk to you soon. Maybe we could try and watch a movie together or something?”

“We’ve tried movie nights. They never go well.”

“Ah, but this time we have several hundred miles between us. All I need to do to stop you spoiling the ending is to temporarily block your number.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Trust me, I would. Sorry, gotta go, love you, bye!”

“Love -? No, you can’t hang up after that! Come back! John!”

~

“Sherlock, it’s 2 am, what the hell do you want?”

“I have something to tell you. I’ve given it a great deal of thought and now seems as good a time as any to tell you this thing I’ve been considering.”

“Well, no, there would be a better time. Like any time when most humans are awake.”

“But it’s urgent. The truth is, I’ve been thinking about what you said at the end of our last video call session yesterday.”

“What did I say?”

“You know.”

“Huh?”

“That you love me.”

“Oh. Sorry. Sort of slipped out.”

“So you didn’t mean it?”

“I never said that.”

“So you did mean it?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Listen, can’t we do this another time? I’m barely awake.”

“But I want to - ”

“Please?”

“...Fine. Good night, John.”

“Goodnight.”

~

“John?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

~

"I'm going insane."

"Hello to you as well."

"Shut up. I'm here to vent, not to waste time on meaningless greetings. Hello, how are you, how's the family, et cetera, et cetera. Done."

"Hey, it's good to ask these things. You never know, maybe my family aren't doing great and I needed you to ask about them."

"Do you?"

"Not really, it's just more of the same. Money troubles, Harry yelling at me for breathing too loud, Mum's taken up watching exercise classes on youtube."

"Oh, good, wonderful, I really, really care about your mum's exercise videos."

"What the hell's gotten into you?"

"Quarantine! Quarantine's gotten into me! Every time I turn the TV on it's the stupid news talking about this stupid virus. Every time I've had to do a video call with my grandparents all they can talk about is the virus and how empty the shelves at their local Waitrose are. I've had to help my Mother do online calls with her seminar groups on no less than four separate occasions. Four!"

"Okay."

"And I gave in, you know. I tried it. I fell to temptation."

"What?"

"Icing, John! Icing straight from the bowl like you said! And it was delicious!"

"Oh."

"Don't you laugh, this is your fault."

"Look, something's got you in a bit of a mood. I have enough to deal with without you sulking all the time. Can you call back when you're not as miserable?"

"What, am I not allowed to vent to my boyfriend? Am I not allowed to express emotions? Am I just a _fuck toy_ who sits here and looks pretty -"

"Hang on, what?"

"Is that why it took you so long to introduce me to your friends? Or were you just ashamed of your _freak_ of a boyfriend -"

"I was in the fucking closet, Sherlock, have some empathy."

"Only when you start having empathy for me."

"No! You're acting like a spoilt brat right now. Both your parents are working. You have a massive fucking house where you can escape to your room and don't have to listen to anyone talking. You have a garden to go out in if you want to. I have a council flat and an unemployed dad and a whiny sister to deal with, and now, apparently, I have you to pile on top of all of that."

"Well, then, if I'm such a problem -"

"Screw this. I'm hanging up now."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Perfect."

~

"Sherlock?"

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"I don't actually care about when you introduced me to your friends. I don't know what came over me."

"Me neither. You're not spoilt. You're allowed to feel angry about all this too."

"No. You're right. I have it easy. I shouldn't have been so domineering."

"Ok. So. Back to normal?"

"As normal as any of this can be."

~

“So this is it. This could be the last week of lockdown.”

“Or the sixth of many.”

“Come on, be a little optimistic. Has Mycroft told you anything?”

“No. He takes his Non Disclosure Agreements seriously.”

“Bastard.”

“I know.”

“Ok, here we go. The Prime Minister’s speech.”

“Wait, that’s the Prime Minister?”

“Yeah, who did you think that was?”

“I thought the Prime Minister was the ginger man who got married recently.”

“That’s Prince Harry. He got married two years ago.”

“Not the Prime Minister?”

“Definitely not.”

“Oh.”

“Ssh, I’m trying to listen.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Oh my god.”

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“Book the first train to London.”


End file.
